An Answer
by fowl68
Summary: No ordinary person who knew what that man had done could have stood there without breaking into a rage.


**Disclaimer:** Don't own

**Author's Note:** Jello, guys! School's been swamping me, but on the bright note, it's easier to stay awake in chemistry now that we're past the math portion of it. Had the PSATs last Wednesday. Three hours of math and grammar. But I didn't have to go to Chemistry or business, so that's awesome. Been making a coil pot in ceramics that's now getting too tall for my poor 5'1 frame to keep building comfortably.

Okay, enough about me since you guys are probably bored with it anyways. Been reading Marvel's Civil War lately, and I got the inspiration from the Iron Man part of it. It always annoys me when Gambit's not part of something big like this, but I've learned to let it go.

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"_But right then, I knew we were going to war. We're warriors, with weapons and ideals and things to fight for—things worth __**dying**__ for. It's who we are. It's our defining characteristic. We fight. The Avengers avenge, X-Men defend, the Fantastic Four explore. But we all fight. At first, I thought we'd be fighting a war against evil. But that's just the houlier-than-thou attitude that we're always the good guys and all that we fight is bad guys. But in a war, there are no good guys and there are no bad guys. There're opposing forces." –Tony Stark__** (Iron Man Civil War)**_

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There was no one to welcome him. He came as twilight, when the last vestiges of the sun were painting the sky in gashes of gold, crimson and orange, with the touches of night whispering along the edges. He did not come through proud gates; no guard was there to stop him with a smile to question how his trip was.

He did not stop when he reached the center of rubble and slabs of concrete; did not pause to think about where he was going. He'd walked these streets for what felt like eternity. His steps didn't hesitate when he began climbing the steps up through the proud faces that he could already see were beginning to crumble.

The sapphire gaze didn't falter when he saw the man standing there on the cliff, looking out at the world that had fallen apart at his fingertips. No ordinary person who knew what that man had done could have stood there without breaking into a rage.

But Naruto stood there. He stood there calmly, almost too stilly, no fear, no anger.

"Why're you here?" The damnably familiar voice didn't seem tired, didn't seem much of anything and that was what Naruto loathed the most.

But he replied anyway. "To ask something."

Obsidian eyes glanced at him over a too-thin looking shoulder. "What would that be?"

"What made you think that it was okay to do all this? What in all the hells made you think that this was yours to do? Who made you the judge, jury and executioner?! How could you work with the people you've worked with? Tell me, Uchiha Sasuke, was it worth it?" The rage that had been kept nicely leashed had finally worked its way onto Naruto's face. "Tell me! _Was it worth it?!"_

Sasuke turned to face him for the first time in their conversation. "You never did like to lose."  
Naruto stood there with his fists clenched, fury making the air almost unbearable. He couldn't make his mouth or his body work to say and do what he'd wanted to. When he finally did manage to use his voice, Sasuke was already far gone and all he said was, "Damn straight I do."

* * *

The corridor was cold and bereft of people, even those that were supposed to work here. His footsteps didn't echo, didn't make a whisper, but that was second nature now.

He'd been on the contact list, they'd said. His was the only name on there. But then, maybe he'd known he would be. It was an unspoken, an unthought-of agreement that they'd be the last ones there because there was no one else.

But he'd never wanted this.

There was no chair, so he stood with his arms braced on the table, that too cold table, and stared at something he'd never wanted to see.

The corpse of Uzumaki Naruto.

It was all he could do to stare at it for long minutes without feeling sick. The familiar face was too pale, the whiskers too sharp in relief, despite the fact that they weren't black anymore against his skin. They'd become gray in death. The blonde hair was limp and looked less than translucent in this light.

He spoke without thinking about what he'd say. "Thought everything would be for the better after all this. After there were no people in power of other people. But everyone's gone and disappeared, we were always real good at that, and it's probably forever. Sometimes I wonder if they found different lives yet and if people ask them what they used to be to be the way they are.

"You asked me a question once, couple years back. Actually, you've asked me a lot of questions, but you've only asked me one that I haven't answered. I thought I knew the solution for the wars, thought I could fix things. I knew that if I wanted to fix things, you and me would probably _never_ be able to talk to each other again. Or be friends or partners or…_anything_ again. I told myself it was okay because I'd be fixing things."

His hands were gripping the table, thought in what emotion it was hard to tell. "I thought I'd be willing to do whatever it took to try and fix things. But I know I can't now, because the thing that I know I could never take happened, and I was never good at fixing things. Just breaking them. You were the fixer. And you know, do all the things we've said and done to each other, for all the things I've had to do and the lies I've had to tell, I still never gave you the damned answer to the one question I should've answered. Just one question! And I can tell you now, but I'm not sure if you can hear me.

"It wasn't worth it."

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**A/N**: Wanted to try a different writing style this time and I know this is just downright depressing, but thanks for reading through it anyways.


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